


Late

by Deepdarkwaters



Series: Bespoke [5]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Dominance, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Kissing, Kneeling, M/M, Missing Scene, Obedience, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6933943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deepdarkwaters/pseuds/Deepdarkwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sir</i> is something of a private joke between them now: a word with several million different possible inflections, none of which ever convey deference. Nobody else but Harry knows that when Merlin says <i>sir</i> specifically to him in meetings or passing in the corridors, what he actually means is <i>love</i>, or sometimes <i>pet</i>, or frequently <i>you fucking headache Harry Hart I swear to god</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaychel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaychel/gifts).



_Sir_ is something of a private joke between them now: a word with several million different possible inflections, none of which ever convey deference. Nobody else but Harry knows that when Merlin says _sir_ specifically to him in meetings or passing in the corridors, what he actually means is _love_ , or sometimes _pet_ , or frequently _you fucking headache Harry Hart I swear to god_.

"Late again, sir," outside the recruit barracks is one of the latter. Harry recognises it, of course, and gives Merlin a fond sort of sideways glance when Lee's boy isn't looking even though he's perfectly aware he's going to have to answer for the mess he's made of today.

"Sorry about that," Harry says casually after Merlin's sent the lad through the door. "Bit of a long-winded path to getting him on board, I'm afraid. I assume you saw the footage and that's why your face is doing the"—he makes a vague sort of hand gesture in the direction of Merlin's head—"you know, angry Medusa without the snakes."

"Well, sir"—fucking sentient headache in a suit—"now you're here, perhaps you'd like to wait for me in your office and I'll be along shortly."

"I'm not sure I would, actually," Harry says as politely as he can, and Merlin pinches his arse hard to get him moving before heading into the barracks to scare the shit out of the latest bunch of confused little lambs.

* * *

Galahad's office is silent when Merlin unlocks the door and goes in, lit only by the lamp in the corner so that Harry, kneeling between it and the edge of his desk, is half in deep shadow, half in soft golden light. He looks irritated, though he tries to smooth his face back to his default expression of mild amusement before Merlin makes it over to him and leans his backside against the desk.

"What took you so long? You've been bloody hours."

Merlin checks his watch as he's reaching out to stroke the back of Harry's hair. "It's been thirty-seven minutes."

"Then why the hell do I feel five years older?"

"Stop complaining or I really will make it bloody hours." He can feel the push of Harry's head against his fingers seeking more, and starts to stroke the back of his neck gently as well. "You need to control your temper. How much longer do you think I can keep covering up for you when you attack civilians?"

"As long as I need you to," Harry says, somehow managing to sound self-righteous about it. "They were so _rude_."

"Other people's bad manners aren't a good enough reason to shoot them." Harry just mumbles something unintelligible that might be a repentant apology but probably isn't, and Merlin gives up because it's late and he's tired. And to be fair they _were_ extremely fucking rude. "You can get up now."

"I'll stay here, if it's all the same to you." Harry rests his cheek against Merlin's thigh, exhaling slowly in a way that seems to drain the last lingering tension out of his shoulders. "How's the new blood?"

"Hard to tell so soon. Everyone except your boy looks superb on paper, but ask me again after the first test."

He feels movement, glances down again to find Harry removing his glasses and then the gentle press of lips against his kneecap, Harry's cheek nuzzling there like a needy cat demanding fuss. "Long night for you. Shall I wait up?"

"No, I'll sleep here."

"Fine." For a while there's silence, just the occasional faint sound of Harry's cheek sliding against Merlin's trouser leg again. "Please don't drown him. Percy owes me a bottle of Macallan number six if he gets to the train test. I'll let you have some."

"Harry, you can't bribe me with booze."

"Yes, but it comes in a Lalique decanter, I want it for my glass cabinet."

"I'll buy you one myself."

"Just please don't drown him," Harry says, a note of impatience in his voice. "This is the second time I've buggered up his life now. If that's the way it ends for him I shall have to fling myself off a bridge." Merlin stays silent, rubbing soothing little circles in the back of Harry's neck with his fingertips, waiting to see if there's more, but all Harry says after that is, very quietly, "Looks a lot like his father, doesn't he?"

"There's certainly a resemblance. He's shorter."

"Prettier eyes."

" _No_ ," Merlin tells him firmly, and feels Harry's mouth twist into a grin against his thigh. "If I smell a single whiff of flirting with a candidate, _any_ candidate, I will send you to the arse end of Siberia on surveillance."

"Compromise. I can't promise I won't flirt, but I promise not to touch."

"Suppose that's as good as I'm likely to get, isn't it?" He finds Harry's chin with his fingers, tilts his face up to look at him. "No more fighting civilians, I'm serious. Even the boors. Promise me."

Harry looks like his mind's whirling around trying to word the promise in a non-binding way, reluctantly settling on, "I promise I won't _start_ any fights."

It'll have to do. "Come here," Merlin tells him. He offers his hands to help Harry to his feet, straightening his collar and ruffled hair for him while Harry tries to stamp the pins and needles out of his legs, then uses the momentum of standing up from the edge of the desk to press a quick little kiss to Harry's lips. "I'll see you tomorrow after you talk to Professor Arnold. Don't be late."

"I'm never late," Harry says indignantly, but there's laughter in his eyes and when he slips his arms around Merlin's neck to give him a proper goodnight kiss there's laughter on his mouth as well.


End file.
